The unranked mage, Corvian Vale.

  ‘The Worst Mage of his generation!’

  ‘A rank lower than E… F?’

  ‘The God’s Mistake’

  These titles did not simply follow Corvian. They clung to him like damp clothes on a cold day, heavy and impossible to ignore. They whispered from alleyways, echoed through school hallways, and floated through the market air whenever he passed. Some people said them loudly with laughter. Others muttered them quietly with pity. Both hurt the same.

  After turning thirteen, the minimum age required to attend a bestowment ceremony, he stood before the altar like every other hopeful child. One by one, glowing runes flared to life for the others. Symbols of power. Symbols of potential. Symbols of destiny.

  When Corvian stepped forward, nothing happened.

  The air stayed still. The mana around him did not stir. The rune stone remained dark, lifeless, and cold to the touch.

  Barely any mana reacted to his presence at all.

  In terms of strength, he was only slightly better than an ordinary human being. In a world where children his age could already shatter stone with spells or reinforce their bodies with mana, Corvian struggled to lift a wooden practice blade for more than a few minutes. Because of this, everywhere he went, he was almost always injured. Bruised ribs. Twisted ankles. Split lips. Scratches that took too long to heal.

  Sometimes, while wandering too close to the wild zones beyond the city walls, he had stood on the very edge of Death’s doorstep more times than he could count. Once, a low level mana beast had chased him for nearly half a mile before a passing adventurer killed it. Another time, he had tripped into a shallow ravine and spent hours climbing out with shaking arms and bloodied fingers.

  When he turned fourteen and transferred to a brand new school with a brand new life and brand new hopes, he thought maybe the past would stay behind him.

  It did not.

  He stood before another bestowment altar. Another chance. Another silent disappointment.

  No runes lightning up. No clusters of mana. No change.

  Fortunately, the day before he turned fifteen, he was met by fate. Something that not many had ever encountered directly before. This meeting was unexpected and urgent. In fact, Corvian did not even realize what was happening at the time. He thought it was just another strange dream brought on by exhaustion.

  He was wrong.

  In the Lands of God, over eons ago…

  “Your Majesty, to your side!” Mu-yeol, the God of War, screams at the Supreme God. His layered silk falls gently onto his dragon-scaled armor as he lunges forward, blade raised, eyes burning with desperation.

  The battlefield of the gods is not like mortal battlefields. Entire stars hang frozen in the sky as collateral damage. Shattered fragments of worlds float like drifting debris. Rivers of pure mana surge through the air like violent currents, tearing apart space itself.

  However, it was too late.

  The Supreme God, an omniverse level figure whose mere presence once bent reality, did not dodge. A skill, capable of crushing worlds and unraveling dimensions, struck him directly in the head.

  For a second, nothing happened.

  Then reality began to fracture.

  The shockwave ripped through the battlefield in complete silence before the sound returned all at once like thunder breaking the sky. The Supreme God’s eyes, once filled with boundless light, flickered dimly.

  Soon enough, the Supreme God collapses, falling into a condition known as Mana Thirst Coma. Usually caused by such a low level of mana that the systems in the body fail, to the point where death is almost certain. For mortals, this condition is rare. For a god, it is unthinkable.

  Unfortunately for the Supreme God, he does not make it, and he knows this.

  So he makes a last and final request.

  “My friend, Tae-ul (God of Everything),” his raspy voice sounds across the shattered void, weak yet still commanding, “Lock my divine weapons to the locations so no one can retrieve them. And please.”

  He coughs a few times before blood starts spraying out, droplets of golden divinity dissolving into the air.

  “Please transfer my power to someone who is worthy of taking my power.”

  He stares at Tae-ul with urgency. Clearly this was something he had made Tae-ul practice multiple times. Directions for the unthinkable. Instructions for the impossible. Preparations for his own death.

  Tae-ul does not speak. He only nods, eyes filled with a grief no mortal could comprehend.

  Back to the present, the day before the bestowal ceremony…

  Corvian was doing his usual routine.

  Training.

  Unlike kids his age, who trained to polish their talent, Corvian trained to build something from nothing. He did not train because he had potential. He trained because he had none.

  Although stronger was not even a word in his dictionary, he still tried and tried. Maybe perseverance was the reason why it actually happened. Maybe the universe simply ran out of ways to ignore him.

  And to be specific, training as in professional settings.

  A worn down training ground sat behind a guild warehouse near the city’s outer district. The dirt was uneven from years of practice. Wooden dummies leaned slightly to one side. Rusted weapon racks lined the wall. The air smelled of sweat, metal, and dust.

  “Waddup Jim! Still not tired of the job?”

  Jim, a middle aged man with an overgrown beard and arms thick as logs, turned around. His armor creaked as he shifted.

  “Oh, Park. It’s been a while, isn’t it?” Jim took his fingers and counted. “Like four months?”

  He clears his throat. “But still I need this job for the money, you know? I have a family of three to serve.”

  Park laughed loudly, slapping Jim on the back hard enough to rattle his armor.

  “Ha ha ha ha! Yes, yes, you’re right. Raiding dungeon breaks is one of the best ways to gain money, if you put your way of thinking in our boots of course.”

  Jim chuckles embarrassingly. “Yeah, just need the job done. Hmm, I have heard there are much more dungeon breaks these days. More risk but also more money.” He motions it with his hands as if weighing the two sides.

  Park yawned and stretched his arms. “The team should be getting here soon. And I have heard our healer, Seo, got invited to a pretty big clan. Guess her name, which stands for Omen of Luck, really did work.”

  He sighs. “One of our best healers. B-rank too.”

  Jim just looks at him and replies, “Barely any healers these days. You are the leader, so you should try finding more.”

  Neither of them noticed the thin boy at the far end of the yard.

  Corvian.

  He was swinging a wooden sword again and again at a practice dummy. Each hit lacked power but made up for it in repetition. His shirt clung to his back with sweat. His hands were red and blistered. His breathing was uneven and strained, but he did not stop.

  Thud. Thud. Thud.

  The dummy rocked slightly with each hit, more from persistence than force.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Park glanced over and shook his head.

  “That kid is still here?” he muttered.

  Jim followed his gaze. “Yeah. Comes almost every day. Pays for private training sessions too.”

  Park raised an eyebrow. “With what money?”

  Jim shrugged. “Does odd jobs for the guild. Cleaning, carrying supplies, organizing storage. Whatever they tell him to do.”

  Park watched for a moment longer. Corvian stumbled, nearly losing his balance, then corrected himself and continued swinging.

  “He has no mana, right?”

  “Almost none.”

  “And he still trains like that?”

  Jim nodded slowly. “That is why I do not laugh at him.”

  Park stayed silent this time.

  Across the yard, Corvian lifted the sword again. His arms trembled violently. His vision blurred from exhaustion. He could feel every bruise on his body and every ache in his muscles.

  But he did not stop.

  Because stopping meant accepting what everyone said about him.

  Just as Park finishes his new statement, a familiar figure appears in the distance. Wearing commoner clothes that hung loosely on his thin frame, Corvian jogged toward the duo. Dust rose softly from the ground beneath his worn boots with every step.

  “Hello Mister Jim and Mister Park.” He bows respectfully, his breathing slightly uneven from the run.

  Park nods with a crooked smile. “Kindness is the way, eh.” He bumps Jim’s shoulder with his elbow.

  Jim ignores him entirely and looks at Corvian. “Guess you’re the first to arrive, besides us obviously.”

  “Maybe not!”

  A cheerful voice rings out from behind them like a bell. A joyful blonde girl steps into view, her hair catching the sunlight as she walks forward with exaggerated confidence.

  “Oh, it’s her. Should we give an award just because she arrived so early?” Jim sarcastically states.

  “Whatever you elderly.” Seo rolls her eyes in disgust, placing her hands on her hips.

  “Guys, cut it out,” Park jumps into the battle, clapping his hands together loudly. “Let’s get to the gate. Maybe the others forgot the instructions and went there before us.”

  “You’re right, let’s keep going.”

  Seo walks beside Corvian as the group moves toward the dungeon entrance. She glances at him several times before finally speaking.

  “Why do you insist on hunting dungeons like these?”

  Corvian shrugs without looking at her. “Need to train.”

  This is something he has said maybe a hundred times by now.

  This was a D rank dungeon. The raid team consisted of about twenty people, Corvian included. All the other mages were barely breaking a sweat while hunting the monsters down. Their spells were smooth, efficient, and powerful. Their movements were practiced. Their confidence is obvious.

  Corvian, meanwhile, had to carefully pick his moments just to survive.

  “Just so you know, I know you didn’t get a rune to light up. Training here won’t help.”

  Corvian ignores the comment and looks ahead. “Seo, there’s someone else in need. Maybe you can help them.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She takes off toward a wounded mage without another word.

  Corvian straightens his back slowly. The injury on his arm no longer bleeds, but he still twitches slightly as pain shoots through it while walking. Every step reminds him of how fragile his body is compared to everyone else here.

  After a few steps, something catches his eye. A faint glimmer at the corner of a rock, half buried in the dungeon wall.

  He walks over carefully and crouches down. It is a crystal, small and jagged, reflecting light in an oddly beautiful way. It looks valuable, or at least interesting enough to keep.

  He takes out his small toolbox and grips the pickaxe. With careful aim, he directs the strike right next to the crystal and hits.

  The moment the metal touches stone, the crystal begins to glow.

  Not brightly, but noticeably. A soft pulse of light spreads through it like a heartbeat. For a brief second, Corvian feels a strange warmth travel up his arm, but he ignores it.

  He pulls the crystal out, wipes the dust off, and puts it into his pocket before continuing forward.

  Unfortunately for him, the dungeon seemed to be over already. The monsters had been cleared by the stronger mages. His mood falls instantly. He had only taken down a single E-ranked monster the entire time.

  This crystal he holds probably only has the value of a few bronze coins, but still better than nothing.

  They said C rank loot could sell for a silver coin if pure enough. But that is a joke to Corvian. He barely passed as an E rank mage in combat ability, so a C rank monster could absolutely crush him without effort.

  “Hey guys! Look, there is an exit to this cave here. Maybe there is more!”

  One of the mages yells out, his voice echoing through the cavern. This attracts Corvian’s attention. He slowly walks over along with the rest of the group and sees what the mage is pointing at.

  And there it was.

  A beautiful open forest beyond the cave’s end, covered in snow. White flakes drift gently through the air. Tall trees stand silently like ancient guardians. The air looks cold, clean, and untouched.

  “C’mon guys, let’s get moving.” Park motions for the rest to follow him as he steps out into the forest.

  “Hey Seo,” Corvian looks over at her, “Isn’t this illegal to do such a thing?”

  Seo looks at him briefly. “I don’t think so, but this could make us a fortune so let’s just go.”

  Corvian nods and follows.

  Before long, they hit a dead end.

  A massive wall of stone blocks their path, rising high into the snowy sky like an artificial cliff.

  “Park, there’s a big wall. Wanna knock it down?” Jim yells over the loud snowstorm that had grown rapidly just a few minutes after they stepped outside.

  “Sure!”

  [Nature’s Forest: Exploding Vines]`

  Immediately, several thick vines erupt from the ground at Jim’s command and slam into the wall with tremendous force. The impact shakes the earth beneath their feet.

  However, nothing happens.

  The wall does not crack. It does not move. It stands firm as if mocking them.

  Even Jim’s C rank magic cannot affect it.

  “Shit. Guess we walked all this way for nothing I guess. Am I r-”

  Before Jim can finish his sentence, an arrow pierces straight through his right eye.

  The force sends him backward instantly. He collapses into the snow without another sound.

  “Jim?” A shocked Park asks.

  Before anyone can react, a dozen more arrows rain from the sky, striking mages around them. Screams pierce the air. Blood stains the snow in dark patches.

  “SHIT! Everybody RUN toward the exit!” Park yells while grabbing Jim’s body.

  [Tendrils of Hope!]

  A B-rank support mage from Park’s team casts her ultimate. In an instant, a massive flower bursts from the ground, its thick petals unfolding and wrapping around them like a temporary shield.

  Arrows thud into the petals repeatedly, some piercing through, others bouncing off.

  Through the veil of snow and chaos, figures appear at the top of the hill.

  A few elves come running down, sliding along the slope with unnatural grace while firing arrows and throwing spears with terrifying accuracy.

  “Shit! It’s the bandits from the Elf Kingdom that the monarch warned about! They’re going to chase us even after we escape. Defend!” Park screams as he casts multiple ice spells in rapid succession, shards of frozen air forming in front of him to deflect the tens of arrows screaming down upon them.

  The sound of impacts becomes constant. Ice cracks. Petals tear. People scream.

  Corvian was not inside the shield.

  He was deeper in the forest, crouched behind a snow covered tree, trying to control his breathing. Just moments ago, he had been caught in a restraining spell cast by one of the bandits. Thorn like vines had wrapped around his legs and waist. He had struggled wildly, slamming his wooden sword against the spell again and again until, somehow, he broke free.

  He had won that small fight.

  But the cost was distance.

  He was now separated from the group.

  “Shit.” Seo looks toward the far distance beyond the storm. Her eyes narrow. Someone powerful is coming.

  “What do you guys want from us?” she yells, her clear voice cutting through the wind and chaos.

  There was no response at first.

  Then the air distorts.

  A powerful figure in the distance vanishes and instantly reappears directly in front of the group as if space itself folded for him.

  “Hello humans. I’m Mugyeol, Captain of the Twelfth Moon of the Night. I’m here because one of you lows has a precious artifact that our leader owns.”

  His voice is calm. Almost polite. Completely detached from the violence happening around him.

  Park panickily looks toward his team.

  “Wasn’t he one of those that the monarch warned us to avoid?” he whispers to Seo.

  The next second, his throat is slit.

  No one even sees Mugyeol move.

  Blood sprays into the snow like a crimson fountain as Park collapses, still holding Jim’s body.

  “I’m not going to repeat again. Where is it?”

  “Sir, with our due respect, we do not know what or where i-”

  The mage had not even finished speaking when her head burst apart, scattering red across the white ground.

  A few mages behind scream in terror but are silenced just as quickly.

  It is not a fight anymore. It is an execution.

  Corvian watches from behind the tree, frozen in place. His heart pounds violently in his chest. His hands shake uncontrollably.

  He slowly looks down toward his pocket.

  Was it this that they were looking for?

  The crystal.

  It no longer looks dull. It is glowing brighter than ever, pulsing with a steady rhythm that matches his heartbeat. The warmth he felt earlier now spreads through his entire body.

  Before he can react, the crystal lifts itself out of his pocket.

  It floats into the air.

  Mugyeol’s eyes snap toward it instantly.

  But he is too late.

  The crystal shoots forward like a bolt of light and slams directly into Corvian’s chest, striking his mana core.

  A blinding explosion of light erupts outward.

  The snow, the trees, the elves, the mages, everything is swallowed by white.

  And in that overwhelming brightness, Corvian loses consciousness along with everyone else.